Work Text:
There were many things the Doctor loved. He loved movies, and he loved books—especially Harry Potter. He loved running, the thrill of danger and a race against the clock. He loved Earth, and every single human on that small planet. He loved bananas, and cupcakes. He loved animals, he loved living creatures in general, because each one was so complex, so different. They were mysteries that he was trying to understand. But what he loved the most—more than bananas and Harry Potter and running for his life—was Rose Tyler.
He didn’t know exactly how it happened. He didn’t really care, to be honest. The only thing he was sure of, was that he needed her. He needed to smile at her every morning as she made a cup of coffee. He needed to grab her hand and say “run”. He needed her, with her bright ideas and the way she always knew what to do, even when he didn’t. He needed her to say “I love you” want more time. And he needed to say it back.
But he couldn’t. He was on his own now, he didn’t have anyone else to share his adventures with. No one to grab his hand, and even if he did, he was sure no one could ever do it the way Rose did. She was special, all pink and yellow, giving him toothy grins every time they landed, wondering what adventure they were going to live this time. But he didn’t have her anymore. She was gone. All he had now was a memory.
Rose.
He often forgot she wasn’t there anymore, saying things out loud. What do you think? Can you pass me that? Reminds me of this one time… He didn’t realise his mistake until he looked up, wondering why she hadn’t answered. And sometimes, he could hear her talking, answering back. Sometimes it was only a good morning. Sometimes, it was a simple question. Most nights, it was I love you, again and again, those three little words replaying in his head.
He saw her everywhere now. On every blonde woman and every pink dress. Every flower on every street reminded him of her name. It was all he had left now, flowers. It was almost like they were part of her, and he had the sudden need to protect them. The TARDIS had realised the same thing, apparently, and he found himself on a garden one day, trying to make his way to the library. Well, he thought it was a garden, but there wasn’t any grass, or trees, or flowers. Just dirt, and everything he needed to take care of plants properly. It wasn’t the only thing the TARDIS had done. He found some books on gardening on the kitchen table the next day.
After a while, it became his safe place, one little heaven on the TARDIS. He had the grass from New New York—first date, with this face at least—and singing flowers from a trip to Khesto. There were blue flowers, pink flowers, flowers that could glow in the dark. Forget-me-nots, daisies, plants from everywhere around the galaxy. And roses. There where roses everywhere. Red, white, yellow, every colour you could imagine.
It was all he had left from her, after all. Flowers reminding him of her name.